


saving throw

by monado



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: D&D AU, Dungeons and Dragons, M/M, they play dnd and are VERY invested
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-05
Updated: 2017-09-05
Packaged: 2018-12-24 09:02:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12009453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monado/pseuds/monado
Summary: The rush of excitement that bolts through Prompto is entirely his own. “We could have the coolest duo team ever! Can I be your sworn protector? Your fated companion? Your coolest best friend ever?” At each suggestion, he punches a fist out into the air, striking a pose.Noctis grins. “Hell yeah. Just like real life.”Noct might be onto something with this whole D&D thing.





	saving throw

**Author's Note:**

> i haven't seen any dnd ffxv aus so i took matters into my own hands. full disclosure: the only experience i have with dnd is the adventure zone -- i’m sorry if i messed some stuff up (bc i’m sure i did). dnd’s mechanics and stuff aren’t the focus of this fic but i did have to include a LIL so im sorry if any of you are hardcore dnders
> 
> SO p much the only thing that’s different here is that noctis isn’t tethered to a prophecy, and he managed to wheedle out some extra years of education because he doesn’t wanna be Consumed by royal training yet. even if his dad doesnt have the weight of a prophecy on his mind he’s still VERY pliable when it comes to his son. 
> 
> EXTREME thanks to my saving grace [heroic.](http://https://archiveofourown.org/users/heroic) without u this au would be dead in the ground and i owe u big time
> 
> ENJOY

 

* * *

 

Noctis _really_ doesn’t seem the type. Dungeons and Dragons is completely at odds with the way he tries to present himself to the world (dark, sullen, and edgy, versus _nerdy_ ), so this is why Prompto’s grinning like a madman.

 

Correction: trying to school his face into impassiveness. Noctis looks wholly offended -- never a good sign. The wind is blowing his hair into his eyes, and Prompto thinks he looks like a petulant raccoon.

 

A deep breath in. “N-no, no, I’m just-- it’s cool, don’t get me wrong bro, you just didn’t seem the type--”

 

“The type to what? Enjoy something creative and fun with my friends?” There’s a dangerous hint of challenge in the lilt of his voice, as well as a whine, so Prompto really (genuinely, this time) changes his demeanour.

 

It takes him a moment, but only one; enthusiasm comes naturally to Prompto when it concerns Noctis, and he really _is_ interested. “So, how does it work? Do you guys meet up every week and stuff?” He gasps, bringing his hands to his cheeks. “Do you bring snacks?”

 

Noctis isn’t bristling anymore, so Prompto counts _that_ one as a win. “Yeah.” He lifts his eyebrows up conspiratorially. “Ignis tries to make us eat those vegetable chips.” They scrunch up their noses in sync, and Prompto sticks out his tongue. “I have a stash of cheetos though, and me and Gladio are the majority. He can’t stop us.”

 

Prompto wiggles his eyebrows. “Now you’ve interested me.” He leans over, nudging at Noct’s arm, and gets a smug look back.

 

Noctis adjusts the strap of his messenger bag. “Never does take much.”

 

And that’s the beginning of how Prompto finds himself in a pickle.

 

* * *

 

“No.”

 

“Aww, come _on_ Iggy! It’d only be the coolest thing _ever!”_

 

A deep snort. “It’s not working, Prompto. Good luck reasoning with Iggy on things like this.”

 

“Yeah, Specs isn’t much of a team player.”

 

Ignis adjusts his glasses -- a fidget commonplace in his dealings with his particularly difficult charge. It’s never been turned onto Prompto before this evening, and a flash of impish giddiness quirks up the corners of Prompto’s mouth.

 

“We can debate this until the sun sets _or_ you can take the others’ words for it and give up now.” Ignis’ posture is impeccable, and Prompto knows he’s serious.

 

He pauses for a moment. “But what if--”

 

The telltale thunk of Noct’s head hitting the back of a chair mirrors Gladio’s sigh. Noct whines like a little baby. “Does it matter?”

 

Prompto pouts. “Hey! This is crucial! Maybe even _the_ most crucial thing in this whole campaign!” Whipping his attention back to their exasperated dungeon master, he continues. “Okay. But, think about it -- I dabble in photography. If anyone’s going to be the chronicler of this great journey, it has to be a character played by moi!” His hand stops flapping to point at himself.

 

Ignis closes his eyes for the briefest of moments. “That’s all well and good, but we aren’t talking about whether it’s a good idea, we’re--”

 

“Talking about whether it’s possible in canon! Exactly! But get this, right,” he leans forward, holding both his hands just above the table, “there’s _elves_ in this universe. Are cameras really that unlikely?”

 

The completely unimpressed, dead stare he gets in response is offset by Gladio’s low cackling across the table.

 

“Okay, okay, if I can’t have a camera I’ll make one myself! Noct! What did I make my, uh, crafting skill again?”

 

Noctis levels an amused look at him. “Dude, don’t ask me.”

 

“Of course not, you only helped me figure out _everything on my character sheet_.” Grumbling, Prompto shuffles around the mess of papers on the table. Noctis and Gladio seem to be resigned to waiting this out, but Ignis leans forward, sighing.

 

“Can I just--”

 

“Film cameras existed back in, like, ancient times, dude. Digital -- okay, I get that that’s maybe a bit of a stretch for a fantasy universe _but_ film cameras are just chemical reactions and light! If we have alchemists and stuff then we know about chemicals and science stuff so--”

 

“Fine.”

 

“--it’d make sense if we just combined the things that alchemists know with the things-- oh!” He perks up, snapped out of his dialogue. “Sweet! Thanks Iggy!”

 

Nocis sighs from beside him, and Gladio has a wry smirk angled at him from across the table. Leaning back, feet shifting on their vantage point atop the table, Gladio crosses his arms. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

 

Ignis sighs again. “Gladio, I am not unreasonable, and for the last time, get your feet off the table.” He punctuates his statement by staring at the Shield’s tattered socks, who rolls his eyes and swings them down. “Unlike you lot, Prompto managed to make his point. If Noct had provided a reasonable explanation as to why Umbra needed to have one of those assassin’s knives--” a petulant ‘hidden blades’ is murmured from the opposite side of the table, “--he would’ve gotten them. You just can’t demand unlikely objects and expect me to insert them into the world.” He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

 

Prompto is still cheering in the corner, but finds the whole exchange hilarious. “Really, Noct? Those blades aren’t even made with new technology or anything. You didn’t even _try_ to explain?”

 

He’s slumped in his chair, arms crossed. “I dunno how they work. I dunno why it’s such a big deal.”

 

Gladio claps, making Prompto jolt and Noct sink further down. “Alright, children, let’s get this show on the road.” He bears forward, leaning on the table with his elbows. “So Prompto’s girlie is a bard photographer with a gun. More creative than anything we did.” He raises his eyebrows grimly, as if insulted.

 

“Hey, c’mon, we’ve been playing with Umbra and Delph for a while now. They’re way more developed than Prompto’s character.”

 

“Hey! That’s true but that’s also mean!” He crosses his arms, making a show of lifting his chin at his friend. “I’ll have you know, you have _no idea_ what I’m going to do with my elf.”

 

Gladio grins wolfishly. “Might be good to start with a name, lover boy.” Prompto glares at the big guy (why is he so _big_ that’s not fair) and fails spectacularly at quelling the heat in his cheeks.

 

“He does have a point. We can’t very well continue playing until you settle on what you want to call her.” Ignis looks tired, and his voice is too. “Please, for my sake, settle on a name.”

 

“Hah, yeah, it’s gotta be driving Specs nuts that you’re flip-flopping back and forth between Chocoba and Gardenia. Please don’t pick Chocoba though. It’s really bad.”

 

Prompto puffs out his chest. “There’s absolutely nothing wrong with Chocoba!” He deflates. “But I guess Gardenia is okay…”

 

Noct puts his elbows on the table, his eyes sparkling. “Nice. So can we play now? O great dungeon master?”

 

Everyone leans forward. Ignis rolls his eyes and adjusts his board.

 

* * *

 

The pickle begins to show itself a few months in.

 

Noctis and Prompto are in the library, at a dim corner table. They’re supposed to be studying for midterms, but as usual, they’ve ended up making idle conversation instead. Prompto’s chattering about a new camera model he’s seen in the photography store -- ‘she’s so beautiful Noct you just don’t understand’ -- when he notices Noct staring at a point on the wall in the children's section.

 

“Hey buddy?” Prompto waves his hand in front of his friend’s face, earning a heatless glare from the sullen Prince. “What’s up?”

 

“Oh, nothing,” he says, completely unconvincingly. Prompto raises a single eyebrow and Noct sighs. He turns away bashfully, his head resting on an open palm. “Do you really wanna know?”

 

Prompto blinks, sitting up straighter in his plastic chair. As it creaks, his brain runs through a million different scenarios, and his heart bounces in his chest. “O-of course! If you wanna. Tell me, I mean.”

 

His best friend tilts his head a bit. “So I’ve been thinking about Umbra’s character progression arc. I’m not sure what I want to do with him.” He slouches a bit more, which can’t be comfortable in the small, hard chair. “My last character was kinda… boring. But I’ve been thinking a lot about Umbra, and I want his character arc to be something meaningful.”

 

Prompto feels dumb. “I-- are we supposed to come up with those ourselves? I thought it was kinda the DM’s job to lead our characters, and all.” He feels a rush of embarrassment -- if Noct’s doing it, clearly it’s not Ignis’ job. The one thing Ignis _isn’t_ responsible for seems to be the player characters’ personalities, actually.

 

Noctis blows at a tuft of hair hanging down into his eyes. Prompto watches as it catches a beam of light spilling from the window nearby. “Really, it’s pretty hard to coordinate. It’s not like I know what Umbra’s going to be up against.” His gaze slides, fluidly, over to Prompto’s. “I just wanna do it right. I want him to develop and grow as a character.” He turns shyly to the side. “I wanna do right by him.”

 

Prompto’s never seen Noctis this invested in something that’s not a video game. To be fair, Noctis had been playing Umbra for a few weeks prior to Prompto wheedling his way into their late-night sessions, but he hadn’t realized just how _serious_ Noct was about it. He’s even referring to Umbra as if he were a real person, a person who needs to be treated properly -- it must really be important to him. “That’s… That’s really dedicated of you.” He scratches his face, teasing his lip between his teeth, as he tries to think of something less _lame_ to say.

 

Turns out he doesn’t have to, his best friend’s sixth Prompto sense kicking in. He doesn’t seem to have minded the lukewarm reply. “Yeah. It just-- it’s cool, is all.” He looks up, like he’s got an idea, and stares at Prompto with a spark in his eye.

 

Prompto leans forward instinctively. “What’s up?”

 

The shine fades and Noctis seems unsure of himself again. “Why don’t we… It’s dumb.”

 

Prompto squirms in his chair. “You can’t leave me hanging like that! Tell me, tell me, tell me!”

 

Noct rolls his eyes, a soft smile hanging at the edges of his mouth. “Well-- we could connect our characters somehow? Next time we play. I want them to spend more time together, or something. It feels weird to roleplay a character that isn’t friends with yours yet, so we should kickstart it.”

 

The rush of excitement that bolts through Prompto is entirely his own. “We could have the coolest duo team ever! Can I be your sworn protector? Your fated companion? Your coolest best friend ever?” At each suggestion, he punches a fist out into the air, striking a pose.

 

Noctis grins. “Hell yeah. Just like real life.” He reaches out a fist and bumps it against Prompto’s outstretched one, who grins back.

 

Prompto can’t help the giddiness in his step for the days to come, and feels like Noct might be onto something with this whole D&D thing.

 

* * *

 

It isn’t long before things start spiralling out of control.

 

“Umbra grabs Gardenia’s hand!”

 

Ignis glances sternly at the Prince. “Roll.”

 

Noctis quickly looks up at his advisor. “Roll for what, Ignis?”

 

Their dungeon master leafs through his notes determinedly before settling on something. “Make a dexterity check.”

 

Prompto’s biting his knuckles the whole while, his jaw clenching harder as the dice clatter to a lukewarm stop. Noct murmurs some quick numbers under his breath, and, miraculously, Ignis nods.

 

“You just barely grab Gardenia’s hand. You think you’re slipping, but your fingers lock and your grip is firm.”

 

Twin sighs of relief huff out from one side of the table. Gladio leans forward, the wood table groaning. “I pull them both up.”

 

The ensuing roll is more than adequate -- Gladio often makes quips about how no one in the party is trying hard enough for strength, so he has to -- but in this situation, it seems to have saved two thirds of their party. “Delph hauls out both Umbra and Gardenia from the cliff’s edge. The trap is deactivated, and it seems you are safe, for the moment. You are all unharmed, if a bit spooked.”

 

Prompto breathes out a “Holy shit” as Noctis says “Fuck.”

 

Prompto swivels his head to look at their dungeon master. “Were you really about to kill us off, man? Like, were you really--”

 

“‘Gardenia.’” Noct is using his character voice -- pretty much just his Noct voice, but more serious -- and Prompto turns back around to look at him. “‘Are you okay?’ I squeeze her hand tighter.”

 

Prompto blanches. “Uhhh,” he says, eloquently. “You didn’t let go?”

 

A quick glare is shot his way. “Dude. We’re having a _moment_.”

 

“R-right. Uh,” he clears his throat. Tries to recapture the spirit of things, thinks about what his happy trickster elf would say. “‘Wow, you almost didn’t catch me.’”

 

Noct snorts. “‘That’s some thanks. You’re welcome, by the way.’ I stand up and offer my hand to her, and I swear to God Ignis, don’t make me roll for this.”

 

“Duly noted.”

 

“I, uh, I accept the hand and… stand up.” _This isn’t good enough,_ Prompto thinks. _Noct is trying so hard -- I’ve gotta show that Umbra matters to Gardenia._ “‘Thank you though, really.’” And -- a- _ha_ \-- he’s got it. “‘To answer your question -- I’m always okay, as long as I’m with you, bud.’” He punctuates this line with expert fingerguns and a wink.

 

Noctis blinks once, and then grins a toothy grin. “‘Don’t count on me to save your ass every time this happens.’”

 

“‘Maybe I’ll just glue our hands together so you won’t have to catch me next time!’” Prompto’s silly face matches his words, and Noctis barks a laugh.

 

“‘That wouldn’t be so bad. We’re attached at the hip anyway, these days.’ I wrap an arm around her waist.”

 

Horror buds in Prompto’s veins.

 

“Alright, alright, break it up lovebirds,” Gladio -- or could be Delph; Gladio’s character voice is nonexistent -- interjects. “We still need to get out of this cave.”

 

Miraculously, Prompto manages to make it through the night without spontaneously combusting. After Ignis drops him off at home -- and a scrambled “Byeseeyousoon” -- he flops onto his bed and yells into his pillow.

 

* * *

 

It’s ridiculous, really.

 

A couple of lines from one D&D character to another shouldn’t be wrecking his entire life. But lately, all he can think about is the progression of Umbra and Gardenia’s relationship -- the months spent in Noct’s room, hunched over the dining table as the sun sets, munching on cheetos he really shouldn’t be eating. The levity he feels, the bubbles in his chest over having so much fun with his closest friends and his _best_ friend on a regular basis. The magnetized pattern of his gaze, wandering up and to Noct’s cheekbones, through to the slope of Noct’s nose, in what Prompto’s inner photographer would call beautiful lighting. When his gaze drops to the movement of lips, gaze hanging off of royal features like a man parched, Prompto’s inner truth-teller knows it’s something more than that.

 

It’s ridiculous that he’s trying to interpret fictional advances to real-life ones. Completely, utterly ridiculous.

 

It’s bad enough that he’s thinking this way about royalty -- someone high-born, someone important, not to mention someone expected to produce an heir -- but that’s the _Prince_. His best friend. He can’t help but feel like he’s breached his trust, betrayed him some unspeakable way. Noctis has so much to deal with, so much to handle, and he doesn’t deserve Prompto’s drama. It’s the least he can do to push it away, in silence, in staunch refusal of the impossibility of his devotion. In continued support of his Prince.

 

But it’s just so _easy_. It’s as easy as taking a gulp of fresh air once surfaced from the water; natural, inviting, and sweet. It’s the logical next step -- for all Prompto is, he is double that when he is with Noctis, and it’s not a surprise so much as an inevitability that he finds himself here.

 

He had been aware of something like this for a while, but chose to ignore it for as long as possible. After all, on top of everything else, it’s not as if he would stand a chance. Sure, they’re best friends -- inseparable best friends who tell each other everything -- but in the end, Prompto is just Prompto. The small, timid child he once was is still him at his core. Noctis will be with someone who’s able to match him, able to keep up, and someone who deserves his devotion.

 

Heading to their shared sociology class the next day has never been harder. Prompto arrives late, late enough that it would be rude to speak as he slips into the seat next to his best friend. A quick grin is exchanged as he digs around for his notes, and it’s as if everything is fine.

 

* * *

 

Playing Dungeons and Dragons is like rubbing at an open wound, now. Every time Umbra interacts with Gardenia, there’s an undercurrent of affection, an implication of a shift in relationship that makes Prompto’s chest squeeze. Prompto’s aware enough to realize that this is perfect for Noct’s character -- a foil in Gardenia, someone who rebounds when Umbra falls, someone who contrasts sharply in initial morality. Someone to make Umbra realize that the world isn’t black-and-white. To Gardenia, Umbra serves as a stabilizer, and a reminder to look after herself. And, well, as dangerous as it is, Prompto’s a sucker for a good old happy fictional romance.

 

There's also something sadistic and hopeful in him that eggs him on.

 

Gladio’s been making no secret of his dismay. “Come on guys, I’m tired of third-wheeling,” he groans, head back against his chair.

 

Noct cackles. “You’re just upset because you haven’t been able to charm ladies to save your life.”

 

Gladio’s sideways frown is enough confirmation of this. Prompto laughs. “Sorry big guy, someone had to be the charismatic one.” He motions as if he’s slicking his hair back.

 

“The things I do for you jokers.” Propping his ankles on the table has never looked so petulant.

 

“I quite feel like I’m fourth-wheeling, or rather, my storyline is. Can we please finish this shopping stop and get along with it? I fear we won’t even reach the end of this arc come summertime.” Ignis’ look of disapproval is usually all but useless, but this time, it serves to remind the group of how much work Ignis has put into the campaign. Grumbles make their way round the table, and then they’re back on track.

 

Ignis guides them into a glowing forest wreathed with vines where the sky is water, and it’s easy to fall into their rhythm. Umbra’s quips, his knight’s honour; Delph’s wry banter, his odd but forced rogue-like tendencies (neither Noctis nor Prompto wanted to pursue the skillset, but they needed it); Gardenia’s sarcasm-tinged optimism and her uselessness at supporting the party. All was as it should be, and the team hardly noticed as the sun sank, enshrouding the room in darkness.

 

Gardenia had begun to tug at Prompto’s heart in a way that he never thought she would. Consciously or not, at some point, he had begun to weave details into her personality that came straight from his own. Gardenia wasn’t self-conscious, she wasn’t a worrier; she was better than Prompto. But in the little ways, she had begun to represent parts of Prompto that he liked, as well as parts he didn’t like. What had begun as a concept with nothing but labels to guide her actions had become a lonely, easily-hurt songstress who would do anything for her found family.

 

“Lemme get the light,” Prompto chirps, sliding out of his chair and speeding across the expansive room towards the lights panel. It’s equipped with one of those fancy dimmers, so Prompto holds his finger against the switch until the light is a comfortable, warm intensity. The glow wraps itself gently across every surface in the living room, and Prompto smiles. It feels a whole lot like home, and in no small part because of the people sitting and laughing around the table -- the table that has a little scratch on it from when Ignis’ mechanical pencil slipped in eagerness; the table with the uneven leg that drives Gladio nuts, that still rocks despite the coaster underneath; the table that Noctis fell asleep at once, twice, and Prompto would drape a blanket over his shoulders and settle in too.

 

Really, they are his home, and he wonders absently about how much of his own feelings have leaked into Gardenia.

 

A moment of weakness, and a brilliant plan ghosts at his mind. A brilliant, stupid plan.

 

Noctis waves lazily at him as he wanders back over to the table. “Took you long enough,” he mumbles, head nested in the crook of his arm. Prompto’s response is a sheepish ‘eheh.’

 

Ignis walks towards the table from the kitchen, holding a tray of drinks. “Really now, Noct, is my story that dull?” He places a glass in front of Noctis, who inspects its contents and scrunches his nose up. Ignis snaps his fingers in front of his face. “Look alive.”

 

Noct’s eyeroll goes unacknowledged as Ignis passes drinks out to the others. The glow in Prompto’s stomach is tinged with nerves, and he fiddles with the handle of his cup and starts to organize his thoughts.

 

“Prompto, you’re up,” Gladio barks, not unkindly. Prompto snaps back into it, remembering that they’re about to enter a boss fight, and decides now is as good as ever.

 

“Okay so, before I do anything, I turn to Umbra.” Prompto himself swivels, turning sideways on his chair. “‘Can we… talk?’”

 

Noct glances at Ignis. “Can we?”

 

At the responding “I don’t see why not,” Noctis twists to face Prompto as well.

 

“‘What’s up?’” His eyes are earnest, with a hint of confusion.

 

He gulps. “‘So, uh,’” _no no, no backing out now, keep going,_ “‘I was thinking.’”

 

Prompto hesitates long enough for Noctis to smirk. “‘Well that’s a new one.’”

 

“‘Shush! This is important!’” Prompto takes a steadying breath. “‘I guess I’ll keep it short and simple. Why me?’” There’s a pause, both of them looking at each other with blank expressions. “‘I-I mean, the thing is -- well, you’re a knight. You’re nobility, you’re _important._ I’m… I’m nothing special. I’m--’”

 

“‘That’s enough.’” Prompto flinches, not expecting a reply. At this, Noct’s -- Umbra’s -- eyes go softer, and he leans forward to clasp a hand between both of his. The touch is solid, grounding, and the warmth prickling at Prompto’s cheeks is like a thousand needles. “‘You’re _not_ nothing. You could never be less than _everything_.’” Noct’s -- _Umbra’s_ \-- breath catches. “‘I’m…’” A tongue darts out to wet his lips. “‘Before you came along, I didn’t have a purpose. I just existed for the sake of my duties. I was just a knight. But when I met you, I-- Things changed. You opened my eyes to the world. Without you, I’d be half the man I am now. So-- don’t _ever_ say you’re nothing ever again.’”

 

Noctis’ eyes are so earnest, weighted with devotion, and it takes all Prompto has to rip his hand out from his grasp. The brief confusion that hangs in the air between them is as sour as the bile in the back of Prompto’s throat. “‘Y-yeah.’” He can’t meet the gaze of anyone at the table, and there’s a panic threatening to claw its way up his stomach. “So I-- I turn to Delph and shoot him a thumbs up and I’m ready to kick some boss _be_ hind!” He’s sure his desperation is clear; he’s rubbing his hands together in an effort to seem eager, but he knows it falls markedly flat.

 

It’s just-- too much. Here Prompto is, spilling insecurities that have no place in Gardenia’s character just to make himself feel better; but all it’s done, as most of Prompto’s plans do, is backfire. He was stupid to think Noctis and Umbra would respond one in the same -- Umbra’s platitudes were for Gardenia, not Prompto. And it was just _too much._

 

There's a few brief moments of silence punctuated by the wild hammering of his heart when Ignis clears his throat. There's a look in his eye, one that sees straight through Prompto, but not one without gentleness. “The three of you proceed into the clearing.”

 

The ensuing boss fight is, as usual, filled with wonder and tricks and turns that only Ignis could craft. Prompto throws himself into it, staunchly refusing to linger on his friends’ expressions until he’s certain they’re wrapped up in the fight. It’s a close one, closer than ever before -- Ignis is upping the ante, targeting at their combined weaknesses. Gladio makes a couple of critical saves, as usual, gloating about the others being in his debt again, and it’s enough for Prompto to pull on the skin of Gardenia, to step into her shoes as he normally does. There’s an edge of jumpiness, of insecurity in his actions for the rest of the night, but if anyone notices, they do not comment.

 

If they notice Prompto distancing Gardenia from Umbra for the next few weeks, they do not comment.

 

* * *

 

Noctis is giving him the silent treatment. Which, to be fair, is probably what Prompto needs to get over his dumb attachment -- but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t sting like nothing else. He’s hardly spent a free day without his best friend; throughout the entirety of high school and the beginning of university, Noctis had always had many obligations, a schedule packed tight with royal odds and ends -- but any time he wasn’t occupied was Prompto time. Not to mention the constant string of texts they’ve been maintaining for years that’s gone quiet on Noct’s end. Prompto finds himself deflating whenever he comes across something he’d normally send straight along to his best friend.

 

The anecdote his mother always used to croon at him -- absence makes the heart grow fonder -- seems to be ringing true. Prompto hardly passes a moment without thinking of his best friend, fingers hovering over the keyboard of his phone, lip red from where he’s biting it to the point of pain. He’s already double texted, triple texted, and while that’s not unusual for them, Prompto feels cornered.

 

It’s been about four days since the last campaign session; four days without so much as a word from Noctis.

 

When their class rolls around, Noctis slides into their usual spot like nothing’s happened. Prompto hesitates, glancing up from his notes, but Noctis’ head is down, attention focused pointedly elsewhere. They spend the beginning of the lecture avoiding one another with near-touching elbows.

 

Prompto can’t take it anymore. He lowers his voice to a respectable whisper. “Did I do something?” He hopes the desperation isn’t too obvious in his tone. His eyes are open and pleading, begging for Noctis to acknowledge him.

 

A few beats pass, and Prompto is resigned to being ignored when Noctis whispers (hisses) back, “Gardenia.”

 

He’s a little taken aback. “What?”

 

Noct levies an irritated look towards him. “You’re ruining Umbra and Gardenia’s relationship.” He slouches forward but still manages to exude a royal, authoritative presence.

 

A spark of guilt runs its way through Prompto’s body. “I just-- it was-- it was moving really fast.”

 

Noct’s glare turns incredulous. “Wh-- it’s been, like, eight months.” He turns a palm towards the ceiling, shaking his head. “They’ve been flirting the entire time.”

 

“N-- What?” This is new information. As far as Prompto knew, for a long while, Gardenia had just been playing the part of Umbra’s closest friend. It had only gotten _weird_ when Noct said that bit about holding Gardenia’s waist.

 

The hand facing upwards slumps, and so do Noct’s shoulders. He looks completely dumbfounded. “We… We were. That was… the entire basis of their relationship.”

 

Prompto’s starting to feel a prick of anger. “What? No, they were best friends. We agreed on that.” He’s insulted and _hurt_ at the suggestion that everything their characters have gone through together, all the bonding they’ve done, has all been because of some infatuation. “The _basis_ of their _relationship_ is friendship! They’re as important to each other as they are because they fit each other! It’s not because they _like_ -like each other, it never was, it--”

 

“And if the peanut gallery could stop chattering for a moment, I’d be able to get to my point.” Being called out by the teacher is embarrassing enough, other students’ heads swivelling to try and locate the troublemakers, but the fact that Prompto was just spilling his heart out about _his D &D character _ makes him melt further into his chair than usual.

 

A drawn-out silence ensues between the boys, neither of them seemingly willing to speak up after being scolded. Prompto pays half-attention to the lecturer’s sweeping gestures for a few minutes.

 

“That’s not what I meant.” Noctis surprises a jolt out of Prompto, leaning slightly towards his ear so he can keep his voice down. Prompto quickly makes eye contact, and finds that all traces of frustration have dissipated from the softened look of his best friend. “I just… really think it’d be good for Umbra.” The last part of this sentence was rushed out in a breathy whisper, as if he’d lost his nerve halfway through.

 

Prompto’s face falls. “Yeah. I know,” he whispers back. He finds he doesn’t want to deal with this during class -- he hunches over his notes and scribbles intent squiggles into them, hoping Noctis takes the hint.

 

He feels his friend hesitating, still clearly wanting to add something, before leaning back into his chair. The flash of guilt is hotter this time.

 

At the class’ end, Prompto struggles against his instincts and packs up his bag slowly. If he were to run away now, he’d really be a bad friend. Continuing this chain of non-communication won’t do either of them any favours, and he wants things to be _normal_ again, so it’s with this thought that Prompto takes a deep breath and turns to Noctis.

 

“Walk with me?”

 

Noct’s face is unreadable. “Yeah.”

 

They slowly meander through the small park outside the building. The trees hang low overhead, their dappled shadow overlaying everything underneath. Prompto has always liked the effect. The spring breeze is tranquil -- it tickles impishly at the nape of his neck as they walk.

 

Noctis surprises him by being the first to speak up. “So… You didn’t know they were dating. Whatever. But then why are you pulling back so much from Umbra?” He spots a bench and makes a beeline for it, then dusts off the length of it before gesturing at the empty spot. Prompto takes the invitation.

 

He sits down, swinging his backpack off of his shoulder and dangling it between his legs. The comforting rustling of the trees helps to settle his stomach, but only a bit. “Well-- I mean-- she’s never. Dealt with this kinda thing before.” He tilts his head towards Noctis. “She said all that stuff to Umbra and she’s… Embarrassed. She doesn’t know what to do, y’know?”

 

He reflexively glances up, seeing Noctis has turned his whole body towards him. He’s drawn to mirror the posture, almost unconsciously. When he speaks, it’s in as soft a tone as Prompto’s ever heard from his friend. “Umbra -- whether they're dating or not -- cares about Gardenia. He’d never hold anything against her.” He blinks, just once, pointedly.

 

The blue of Noctis’ eyes is swallowing Prompto whole. “But-- but…” He gulps. “W-well, she’s just. Having a hard time getting used to it, I guess.” He shuffles his feet on the ground for a moment. “But dude-- I had no idea you wanted them to date! You never mentioned it!” He’s uncomfortable with the heaviness of the air, so he adds, in as light a voice as he can muster, “That’s _kinda_ important!”

 

Rather than taking the bait, Noctis’ laser-focus only intensifies. “It was implied. Iggy and Gladio thought so too.” At Prompto’s aversion of his gaze, he continues. “I just. Didn’t mean for it to get so messy. I shoulda said something, huh?” He leans back beside Prompto, and laughs -- a quiet thing, one ringing of defeat. “It’s… it’s embarrassing, but it’s really important to me.”

 

It’s all Prompto can do not to choke. He’s having a one-sided conversation about his own feelings to Noct again, and Noct saying something like _that_ is enough to both freeze and boil the blood in his veins at the same time. He can’t rip his gaze from the flickering shadows on Noct’s nose, over his Prince’s eyes, covering his best friend’s lips.

 

He’s watching as his mouth continues to move. “I just-- I thought that you pulling away meant… I dunno.” He turns his head, and the crow’s nest of hair sways in the breeze. “I thought you might not be interested in the characters anymore. Or in the story, or-- something. I thought you might not want to play anymore.”

 

Prompto doesn’t have time to think before the words are spilling out of him, from somewhere within him that recoils at the suggestion. “What? No way dude, I love hanging out with you! It’s always the highlight of my week! I-- you and Gladio and Ignis, you’re all so important to me.” His gaze flits to the ground. “You’re my best friend, Noct.”

 

A silence, cultivated for years, takes hold of the air. A comfortable, understanding absence of words that could only exist between two people on parallel wavelengths -- two people with years of shared history, lost in memories.

 

When Noctis looks up, Prompto meets his stare. The smile that follows, though small, could rival the brightness of the sun. “Yeah.”

 

* * *

 

The ringing of the dial tone doesn’t sound for long before there’s a familiar _click._ Prompto doesn’t wait a beat before speaking.

 

“When was the last time we went to the arcade?” He says, a bounce in his voice.

 

The response is just as immediate. “ _It’s been_ way _too long._ ”

 

Prompto kicks his foot against the ground. “Man, between university and D&D and all the crown stuff we’ve almost forgotten our roots!” He shakes his head. “We’re so fake, dude.”

 

There’s a moment of silence. “ _It’s almost six. I’ve done the important stuff. I think I could arrange to have the rest of the day off_.” The fact that he’d _arrange_ to have the day off rather than just sneaking off, as they had done for the majority of high school, makes Prompto’s chest swell. He’s prouder and prouder of Noctis every day.

 

Prompto hops in place, rocking on his heels. “Whaddaya say to some greasy arcade food, buddy?” This question is all but rhetorical, and they both know it.

 

Everything’s all well and fine until about ten minutes into their arcade stay.

 

Noctis won’t stop hanging off of Prompto. It’s the most physical he’s been -- Noct, by nature, being more one for occasional, casual contact. But as Prompto takes aim with his gun controller, Noctis’ head provides a (not entirely unwelcome) warm weight on his shoulder.

 

It’s not uncommon for Noctis to sleepily rest his head there, that’s not the problem -- the problem is in the light touch of bent fingers, braced against the small of his back. They’re throwing him off, slashing his concentration, and launching his mind in a million different directions.

 

A sharp, looping whistle pierces directly into his ear and he jolts, wincing at his friend on his shoulder. “Nice going there, sharpshooter.” A toothy smile is angled up at him, and it’s then that Prompto notices the _Game Over_ stretching across his screen.

 

“Y-yeah, well, maybe it’s because one of my arms is weighed down,” he stammers out, sending down a one-eyed pout to the best of his abilities. He can feel the eyeroll he gets, but Noctis (blessedly, disappointingly) retreats.

 

He’s halfway ready to release a breath of relief, but Noctis doesn’t back away. Those points of contact on his lower back are still there, and Prompto doesn’t know what to _do_.

 

He docks his controller quickly (too quickly) and spins around, not hesitating to dance backwards a step. “S-so, buddy, where to next?”

 

A single pointed eyebrow arch. “You usually spend _way_ longer here. You feeling alright?” There’s a hint of something unreadable in Noct’s eyes.

 

“Oh, I’m peachy-keen,” Prompto sing-songs out, donning his bouncy persona by swinging around and pushing at Noct’s back. “Let’s go play the dinosaur hunt! I bet you still can’t beat my high score!”

 

That gets the desired reaction. There’s a haughty laugh, and a heated, “You’re on!” and then they’re feeding tokens into the booth.

 

At Prompto’s last token, a triumphant ‘there’ punctuating its drop into the machine, Noctis cocks his head. “You sure you’re ready to give up your high score?” A playful, cocky tilt to his features, slanting his mouth and making his eyes glint, captures Prompto’s attention more intensely than he’d like to admit.

 

“Nice try dude. You’re just trying to psych me out because you _know_ I’m better than you.” He laces his fingers together and mock-stretches his hands out, an expected shove to his shoulder making him grin.

 

They climb into the curtained booth, and Prompto’s about to select the versus mode before a hand on his shoulder stops him. Glancing over inquisitively, he meets a serious gaze. “Hey.” Noctis tilts his head. “Why don’t we play co-op? Try for the leaderboards.”

 

Ever since the beginning of their arcade meetups, they’ve been unable to reach the top spot of the ‘boards at this machine. It’d been a goal for a while, before they eventually gave up, forcing themselves to be satisfied with second place. But Prompto would be lying if he said he didn’t still _really_ want to dethrone the resident champions, and his competitive spirit delights at the challenge. Prompto hums, already agreeing but unwilling to let his friend off the hook. “What _I’m_ hearing is _you_ acknowledging that I’m better.” Noct snorts.

 

“Whatever helps you sleep at night. What I’m _really_ thinking is, well, we’re a good team. Maybe even a better team than we were before.” He quirks his eyebrows. And then again.

 

Prompto laughs, desperately quelling the butterflies stirring in his stomach. “O- _kay_.” He leans forward, grabbing the gun and shooting at the _Team Hunt_ option. Noctis picks up his own, and the pair exchange determined grins. “Let’s do this.”

 

They fall into an unsteady rhythm, picking up each other’s slack, delivering quick shots into the mouths of angry t-rexes to prevent one another from an untimely dinosaur demise. Their old tactics hold firm; Prompto focuses on sniping aerial and distant targets -- they both really _do_ know he’s a better shot -- and Noctis moves quickly and unpredictably, delivering heavy appendage hits to forefront threats. Once their bigger targets are weakened, Prompto delivers a crackshot, always on-time even if he’s busy firing at something else.

 

This is how they’ve always played. Each time, they’ve barely scraped at second place, wondering how in the world the first placers managed their score. It’s not like they’re missing some secret bonus -- they’d done plenty of research. The leaderboard toppers were just _better_ than them.

 

As Prompto goes through the motions, muscle memory taking the spotlight, he runs through their technique. They always clear out all the enemies, as quickly as possible, scoring as many points as possible. What’s the trick? What are they missing?

 

A quick dive from a pterodactyl distracts him momentarily. Noctis blasts it before Prompto can react, and just like that, Prompto’s got it. They _aren’t_ clearing out the dinosaurs as fast as possible, not at all.

 

“Drop your armour! I’ll cover you!” After a momentary hesitation, Noctis does as he says, and just like that, he’s unequipped and vulnerable. They’d tried this before, on multiple occasions -- it increases Noct’s movement speed a little bit -- but the negative defenses always proved their downfall, and almost immediately. Noctis always hated it, and had (royally) decreed it impossible, as well as not worth it. After all, the speed boost is minuscule -- but this time, Prompto is on top of it.

 

He feels each swipe towards Noctis, intercepting each movement with a shot designed to block rather than incapacitate. He’s not used to playing defensively, which is the role he always went to as soon as Noctis was one-hit-killable -- so instead of doing what he always used to do, he splits his attention in two. He plays aggressively _and_ protects Noctis, downing foes in record speed, and feels a little bit cool in the moments between movements where he’s able to feel anything other than adrenaline. He’s moving faster than he ever has in this game, and Noctis is too. His focus is concrete, but malleable, and each shot feels instinctual, fluid.

 

The time’s up before he realizes. He darts his eyes around for a moment, before letting them swing over towards his best friend. Noct slams his gun back into its stand. He’s grinning, looking towards the screen in anticipation, face lit up. The screen in front of them is reflecting a concentrated shine in his eyes, blotting out the edge but somehow only enhancing an ocean’s clarity within. The booth is dark and grey thanks to the curtains, and Noct’s profile is highlighted in a glow of flickering ethereal light, sharp edges enhanced and flat planes softened. He turns his head to smile at Prompto, his cheeks lifting up and squishing his eyes at the corners, and Prompto’s never seen a more striking sight.

 

Hearing the telltale _ding ding_ of the results screen, both snap their focus forward, leaning towards the screen. Prompto’s holding his gun in a vicegrip and Noctis, the ledge before the screen, and then they hear the fanfare for a high score.

 

“Holy _shit_ ,” Noctis exclaims, pumping a fist in the air as Prompto whoops loudly. Noct whips towards Prompto, holding his fist out, and they do the most enthusiastic rendition of an exploding-fistbump they can. Immediately after, as Prompto’s making explosion noises while wiggling his fingers, Noctis slings himself over Prompto’s shoulders, laughing. “It only took us, what, six years?”

 

“But we _did it!_ ” Prompto shakes Noctis, faux-wailing. His eyes snap open. “What do we name the high score.” They both glance towards the screen, prompting them to input four characters to put a name behind the legend.

 

“I… Our names suck for this, dude,” Noctis intonates, smile still stretching across his face. “What if we… Oh!” He snaps his fingers. “‘Umga.’”

 

Prompto can’t help the giggle. “Excuse me?”

 

Noctis pulls back a bit. Prompto finds himself instinctively chasing him. “Like… We can’t put in any combo of our names.” They’d decided on this years ago, finding neither ‘NOPR’ nor ‘PRNO’ acceptable, and instead punching in silly (or obscene) things. But this achievement was _special_. They had to own up to it somehow, personally. “So… Why don’t we combine Umbra and Gardenia?” He looks a little bit sheepish. “I mean, we worked together kinda like they do.”

 

Prompto pauses. Noct is absolutely right -- they’d mirrored their D&D strategy of Umbra being the heavy hitter while Gardenia split her attention between support and finishers. Prompto cocks his head, smiling. “Hey, you’re right! I guess we really are the dream team!” He elbows his friend, both still smiling. “The dynamic duo!”

 

This spurs a laugh out of Noctis, his head throwing back. “Guess we really are just like our characters!” He picks up his controller again and shoots at the letters, spelling out UMGA on the screen. “It looks kinda ugly though. The alternative is… Ga-um, which sounds kinda like gum so it’s way worse.”

 

“Who cares, dude! We’re the best!” Prompto raises his gun and shoots at the ‘CONFIRM’ button, and they both sigh in admiration at the leaderboards before the screen cycles through to its demand for more tokens.

 

“Oh!” Prompto perks up, raising a finger skyward. He fishes his phone out of his pocket, and leans over, settling his arm around his best friend’s neck and flashing a peace sign. Noct leans into the shot, one-upping Prompto by lifting _double_ peace signs.

 

They both slip out of the booth, Prompto insisting on a shot in front of the game’s logo. He chatters, jittering in place, and Noctis stands next to him, smugness pushing out of him like a wave. They meander aimlessly through the arcade for a few minutes, bantering back and forth about the coolest moments of their flawless run, until they find themselves stationary in the middle of the arcade.

 

Noctis rubs at the back of his neck, all traces of confidence washed away. “Do you wanna… get outta here?” He looks up, almost hesitantly, which hits Prompto in a pang. Does he really think Prompto doesn’t wanna spend time with him? Is he still reeling from the silent period?

 

He flings his arm around Noct’s shoulders, squeezing tight in reassurance. “Of course, dude! Anytime,” he adds, smiling broadly at him.

 

Noct averts his eyes, and Prompto’s heart sinks, but only for a moment. “We should go to the Crow’s Nest. I’m starving.” He starts moving, pulling Prompto along, who jogs to his side.

 

“Nothin’ like a good old video game sesh to get the stomach growling!” He announces, and is rewarded with a breathy laugh from his friend.

 

Noct walks shoulder-to-shoulder with Prompto for the duration of the walk, and Prompto is too hopped up on adrenaline to think about it.

 

That is -- until Noctis, munching on a fry, blurts out, “So, how much are we _really_ like our D&D characters?”

 

Prompto’s lucky he had just finished a gulp of his water, or else he may have spewed it all over their food. “What?”

 

“Like--” Noctis starts, putting his head inquisitively on his open palm. “We work together just like they do, don’t we?” He tilts his head. “Damn. We definitely took the easy route.”

 

Prompto’s heart is running _way_ over the speed limit. “Wh-what are you talking about! I’m nothing like Gardie!” He closes his eyes and sighs, trying to distract from how weak his words are coming out. “I’m not a beautiful elven warrior with a voice of gold.”

 

“No way. Your hair though, maybe,” Noctis murmurs into his burger, teasing out a ‘hey!’ from across the table. He puts his burger -- ketchup and mustard only -- back on his plate. “We should try to vary it up a little. Y’know. For the characters’ sake.”

 

“Y-yeah! For sure, definitely. A-okay. Consider it _done_ , my man.”

 

Noctis raises an amused eyebrow at the theatrics, and it’s this look that lingers in Prompto’s mind as he pores over Noct’s comments for the weeks to come.

 

* * *

 

The one small problem is that Umbra and Gardenia are _dating._

 

It’s driving Prompto nuts, reading into it -- they’d been flirting for eons; their development had tied hand-in-hand with each other, to the point of Ignis intervening -- and he just doesn’t know what to do.

 

Google searches of “help flirting through dnd” do nothing except for maybe break him more. There’s no _way_ that’s what’s happening -- and besides, Noctis wanted their characters to be separate from them. A comment so pointed must, _must_ be an acknowledgement of Prompto’s feelings and a request to tone it down.

 

But the thought of Noctis knowing about how Prompto feels strikes another dagger through his heart, this one soaked in fear as if it were poison. He can’t, won’t lose his best friend. Not now, not ever -- not even if he has to squash his feelings completely.

 

And this is what he’s trying to do when Gardenia dies.

 

It’s a noble death; a self-sacrifice. The man who had plunged the world into darkness had rolled enough to make a fatal strike, and Prompto had done as Gardenia would do, and leapt in front of the ethereal blade that aimed at Umbra’s heart.

 

They had made quick work of the corrupted boss after that, and Noctis didn’t let Ignis narrate before jumping in.

 

“‘No! Why!’” His voice is cracking, splitting as if the scene before him were real. “‘Not you… Anyone but you!’”  

 

Prompto is sniffling, but there’s a look of peace and contentment in his eyes -- a proxy for Gardenia’s. “‘You really think I was gonna let you die?’”

 

Gladio growls. “I walk up to her and kneel next to Umbra.”

 

Prompto laughs, wetly. “‘Don’t look so down. Everything’s better this way. You and Umbra can go open that tavern like you used to dream of.’” He smiles, and a tear inches down and around the curve of his cheek.

 

“‘But this isn’t… This isn’t what we agreed on!’” There’s a track forming down Noct’s cheek now, too. “‘We were supposed to be together! I can’t…’ Ignis, isn’t there anything we can do?”

 

Ignis shakes his head, slowly.

 

“No!” Another fist-slam on the table. “‘I don’t care about the Goddamn tavern! All I care about is you!’ I-- I gather her up into my arms.”

 

Gladio leans back into his chair. “‘This is my fault.’” He eyes both of the boys across the table, devastated. “‘I failed you both.’”

 

Gardenia is quick to reply. “‘Our only mistake was not killing that fucker sooner.’” Prompto laughs, remembering their reactions to the man-turned-beast who started the entire chain of events.

 

Ignis grits his teeth. “The sun begins to crest the horizon, for the first time in what feels like ages. It looks to you all that Gardenia is losing strength -- she is in her last moments.”

 

The broken, shuddered exhale that flowed out of Noctis only kicked at Prompto’s own tears. “Gardenia -- she’s smiling. She reaches out to pull Umbra into a hug. ‘I don’t regret a thing. You gave me a home. You gave me something to believe in. I only wish I could have been there for you. I--’”

 

“I kiss her.”

 

Gladio’s howling into his kleenex. Prompto’s tears are falling freely, and he closes his eyes before replying. “I-- I use the last of my strength to bring my hand to his cheek.”

 

“I break off the kiss. ‘I love you.’”

 

Gladio’s sobbing is all but unheard over the rush of emotion running through Prompto. Blinking to clear his vision, he and Noctis lock eyes. “I kiss him again. I kiss him until I can’t anymore.”

 

Ignis’ voice is unsteady when he picks up. “After a few precious moments, your body goes limp. Your hand slips from his cheek, and you gaze at him for one last time before your eyes slip closed.”

 

Noctis pounds a fist against the table. He hisses a low and broken “Dammit,” that seems to prompt Ignis to dab his eyes with a handkerchief.

 

From then on, every night, Umbra would meet up with Delph to help out at the tavern, where they welcome all. Countless friends pass under the sign, countless people who owe their lives to the actions of the team, come to pay homage -- or, at Delph’s insistence, just to have a good scotch. During the day, Umbra visits the grand music school he funds, passing under an etching of _Gardenia’s_ that only emboldens his stride, and regales the children with tales about a beautiful songstress who brought back the dawn. In time, she would become a figure of legend.

 

The campaign is over. A year’s worth of storytelling, of bonding.

 

Prompto and Noctis sit, in silence, on the hill of the park nearest Noct’s apartment. The breeze is cold, but Prompto’s always run hot. It’s coming up on midnight, their final session having lasted a good few hours longer than normal. Neither of them were willing to be alone after the emotional night -- Noct had taken responsibility for driving Prompto home, and Ignis and Gladio had gone off to their own homes.

 

The silence is padded with a satisfied type of bittersweet. So many months, such a joyful routine, all just -- concluded. Prompto’s sure they’ll pick up with a new story soon, but it’s not the same. It feels like the end of an era.

 

Noct sighs, leaning back on his hands, and stares up at the stars. Prompto lets his gaze follow suit.

 

“I… can’t believe it’s over.” Noct intonates quietly, out of respect for the atmosphere.

 

Prompto laughs quietly, twice. Two breathy things that merge with the breeze. “Me neither.”

 

There’s a drawn out silence, punctuated only by the rustling of the trees and the everpresent crickets, chirping their symphony. The potent tranquility has Prompto feeling nostalgic -- for both things long past and things recent.

 

“I feel the same way as Umbra,” Noctis blurts out, and it’s as if the crickets stop.

 

The gears in Prompto’s head grind to a halt. “You wanna fund a music school? Because don’t get me wrong, that’d be pretty sick--”

 

“Don’t be an idiot.” The words are biting, and Noctis is huddled in on himself again, knees held to his chest and face half-obscured by his arms.

 

There’s a laughter bubbling up in Prompto, a giddy, ugly thing that threatens to spill from his lips. “You… love Gardenia? Me too dude, sucks how it turned out--”

 

“Prompto.” It’s said humourlessly, with an edge of something hard.

 

The air is freezing. It’s whipping into his eyes, into his veins, and the ground is tugging at him. He can’t stop the hysteria from flowing over into giggles now.

 

He stops after a bit, taking stock of the dead silence that follows. He gulps. “Oh.”

 

Noct is curled into an upright ball. “I-- You-- I’ll go.” He stands up, scrambles a few feet away, before Prompto launches to his feet and grabs his wrist. Noctis freezes, as if turned to stone.

 

“Noct.” He’s still, but his head twitches to the side a fraction. Prompto’s desperate, craving, latches onto that one small movement. The world’s rushing around his feet. “I… Noct.”

 

The silence that follows feels like the longest moment in Prompto’s life. Then Noctis slowly turns, and there’s so many things swimming in his eyes -- a cocktail of defeat, of hope, of terror; of something else--

 

“I want to… I w-want…” Noct bites his lip, curling inwards on himself in a way Prompto hasn’t seen since elementary school. “To further our… character relationship.”

 

The meaning is crystal clear, but it’s just so _Noct_ that Prompto bursts out into peals of laughter. A far cry from the swooning and fawning he’d always imagined. Noctis is mortified, and clearly just a little bit offended as he glares at Prompto, who’s wiping tears out of his eyes.

 

“I’m-- I’m so sorry Noct I-- Are you _asking me out_ like that?” He stares incredulously at this man, this man who flooded his way into Prompto’s life, who filled the gaps deep in his core, who blinks at him with a slanted mouth and furrowed eyebrows and who just used a D&D one-liner on him.

 

“I…” He has the dignity to look embarrassed. “Yeah.”

 

Prompto can’t will words to his throat -- it’s far too dry. His face is lifted up in the remnants of laughter, the edges softening, turning into something else. The lift of Noctis’ shoulders, the movement of his Prince’s hair, the hope on his best friend’s face. All of it is so much, it’s almost too much, so Prompto does the only thing he can, and sweeps forward to press his lips to the corner of Noct’s.

 

He lingers for only a moment, eyes fluttering shut, and when they next meet each other’s gaze, they grin.

 

* * *

 

“So, they’ve gotta be best friends.”

 

Noct scratches his forehead with the end of his pen. “Mmm. Yeah.”

 

Prompto’s responding smile is wide, and he wiggles his eyebrows. “ _Best friends_ best friends?”

 

This teases a laugh out of Noctis, and he points his pen towards Prompto sternly. “No. I don’t wanna deal with that all over again.”

 

Prompto lays on the table, one hand over his chest and the other stretched into the air. “Forsaken! Ahh!” He mimes being stabbed several times, and Noctis cackles.

 

Prompto grins, upside down, towards his best friend, and Noctis flicks his forehead. “We’re dating. Isn’t that good enough for you?”

 

The sunny smile stretched back at him is confirmation enough. “I _guess_. I don’t plan on dying this time around, though.” He reaches out to poke at his boyfriend’s face in retaliation, who swats at his hand, grinning.

 

Gladio pops his head around the corner. “Hey, loverbirds. Can it for a minute, please.” He makes a face. “I’m _not_ gonna make Iggy play the odd man out. And if you mouth-breathers don’t pull your weight in strength this time, then no one will. I won’t go easy on you.” He points two fingers towards his eyes, and then towards the two of them. With that, he’s gone.

 

Prompto sighs. “He’s gonna be so mean to us for third-wheeling him.”

 

They grimace at each other, in solidarity. “Oh, you bet.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> _gardenia ;_
> 
> _these flowers are associated with several meanings including purity, untold love, and refinement. while any type of flowering plant will do, if you want to express your love and devotion to someone but don’t want your identity to be known, the gardenia is the flower to give as a present._


End file.
